


This Will Not Go Away

by slash4femme



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, McCoy is understandibly pissed off, Spock is back from Gol, sex happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slash4femme/pseuds/slash4femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is back from Gol and McCoy isn't happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Will Not Go Away

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written October 2009 
> 
> beta read by [](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/profile)[ **cardiac_logic**](http://cardiac-logic.livejournal.com/)who is both wonderful and awesome. Written as a follow up fic for [this prompt here](http://community.livejournal.com/st_tos_kink/485.html?thread=53733#t53733) and sort of also [this one](http://community.livejournal.com/st_tos_kink/485.html?thread=36069#t36069) over at st_tos_kink. 

As soon as Spock keys open the door behind him, McCoy’s body weight carries them both into Spock’s quarters. Spock hits the back wall of the main room with a hard thud, but McCoy doesn’t pay it any attention, he’s too busy concentrating on the feel of Spock’s mouth under his own, the way it softly yields to him. McCoy’s hands fist tighter in the front of Spock’s horrific uniform; it’s been too God damn long. He runs his tongue along Spock’s bottom lip, and smiles very slightly as Spock’s mouth willingly opens beneath his. McCoy’s hands trace down Spock’s body, and he inwardly curses the day Starfleet decided to redesign the uniforms in ways he wasn’t used to, instead of just keeping the old ones. Under the uniform Spock feels just the same, all hard, long lines. McCoy’s grip tightens even more in Spock’s uniform, jerking him forward, the kiss becoming hard and demanding, his tongue pushing into Spock’s mouth. They pull apart finally and Spock opens his mouth.

“No.” McCoy pulls on Spock’s uniform again, rocking them both forward and then thumping them back against the wall. “You don’t get to talk, not now, not after years. Years, Spock, and I thought . . .we both knew you weren’t coming back.”

“Doctor,”

McCoy thumps him back against the wall again. “No.”

Surprisingly Spock closes his mouth and leans back against the wall just looking at McCoy, who feels some of the anger leave him. He leans forward and kisses Spock again, runs his hands up the other man’s shoulders to cup his face. Spock does not kiss him back, but he doesn’t try to stop McCoy or discourage him in anyway. McCoy deepens the kiss, and after a moment Spock leans forward, one arm sliding around McCoy’s waist, then suddenly it isn’t enough, it’s never going to be enough, and McCoy gasps into Spock’s mouth. He twists his hands in Spock’s uniform again and pulls the other man towards the bedroom. They hit the bedroom door on their way there, this time McCoy first, not that he really cares, not with Spock pressed against him like that. McCoy kisses down Spock’s throat, bites at his shoulder through the uniform and almost falls onto the bed. He pulls away from Spock to gasp in air again. Half of him wants to take this slow, to remind Spock exactly what he’s getting himself into and what exactly he’d so easily left behind. Another part, the part winning the fight, just wants Spock, wants him naked, spread out on the bed, wants it now. Need makes his head spin and he hopes it’s bleeding through his hands, that Spock can feel it too. Spock isn’t taking the lead but he lets McCoy turn him on the bed and wrestle him out the ugly blue uniform he’s wearing.

McCoy takes a minute to pull back and just look at Spock. He looks exactly the same as the last the time McCoy had seen him naked, and McCoy inwardly sighs, knowing full well that his own body is showing his age far more than he would like. Spock gazes back at him for a long moment, then reaches up and undoes McCoy’s own uniform, pulling it off him, and Spock’s hands run down McCoy’s chest, mapping out; muscle, lines and light colored hair. Spock’s hand drops and McCoy lies down, covering Spock’s body with his own. He catches the other man’s wrists, holding them down on the bed, kisses Spock’s lips briefly, kisses down his throat across his chest, nuzzling his way though the dark hair to one pale nipple. Spock makes no sound as McCoy bites at it and then soothes it with his tongue, but Spock’s breathing does speed up and McCoy takes his hands away from Spock’s wrists to run them all over Spock’s body, tracing across his chest, down his flat stomach, around narrow hips, muscular thighs, up to broad shoulders. McCoy can’t stop touching him, can’t stop mouthing across every expanse of skin he can find. Spock doesn’t touch him back, doesn’t speak, but he is hard and wet against McCoy hip and when one of McCoy’s hands traces up the inside of Spock’s thigh, or brushes against the back of Spock’s hand, Spock’s eyes fall closed and his breathing becomes shallow.

“Beautiful,” McCoy kisses across Spock’s belly, “still so damn beautiful.”

He means it too; he’s never desired anything the way he’s desired Spock, never wanted the way he wanted Spock, loved him, always loved him, but Spock had made his decision and McCoy hadn’t been able to stop it. For a long moment McCoy presses his forehead against Spock’s chest, listening to the heartbeat and letting the pain and the loss wash over him.

“I can’t,” his voice comes out rougher then he would like and he clears his throat and tries again, “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you or have you fuck me more.”

Spock’s eyes open at that, regarding him for a moment, and Spock still doesn’t say anything, but he does spread his legs farther apart on the bed - an open invitation McCoy’s not fool enough to pass up. McCoy gets up off the bed and pads into the bathroom and comes back a few seconds later dropping a tube on the bed, before coming to kneel between Spock’s spread legs. He looks down at Spock for a moment and then shifts.

“Here,” McCoy braids his fingers with Spock’s and pulls him up as he lies back on the bed, “come here.”

He pulls until he is lying flat on the bed, Spock over top of him. McCoy likes this, likes feeling the bigger man on top of him like this. Also it will be easier on his back this way. He cups Spock’s face between his hands and kisses him, then takes one of Spock’s larger, hotter hands between his own. He kisses Spock’s palm and then up each finger before licking down one finger, tonguing at the soft skin between two fingers. Spock’s expression doesn’t change, but he can’t suppress a shudder and McCoy grins. He sucks one finger into his mouth, curling his tongue around the tip, feeling Spock’s breath speed up. All that control - McCoy sucks hard at one of Spock’s fingers and wraps his tongue around it - his to take away at a touch. He feels some level of vindictive joy at that. Gently he pulls Spock’s hand away from his own mouth, letting his teeth scrape along the tip. He reaches blindly around the bed until he finds the lube, and manages to get some on his hand.

“Spock.” The other man is watching him and McCoy circles one finger around Spock’s entrance, watching Spock’s eyes. Slowly he pushes in, and Spock’s breath catches for a moment and then evens out again.

“Doctor.”

“Leonard.” McCoy’s eyes close briefly; this was a fight he thought he’d won, but that was before. He slides another finger into Spock a little rougher than he’s meant to. “It’s Leonard when you’re in bed with me.”

Spock doesn’t answer him, only reaches up on the bed to grab the lube, and a second later a large, hot, slick hand envelopes McCoy’s erection.

“Jesus!” McCoy can’t help but thrust into Spock’s hand, and he’s already too close. He gently slides his fingers out of Spock, who sits back, across McCoy thighs, looking down at him for a long moment. McCoy takes one of Spock’s hands between his own again and licks teasingly at Spock’s fingers. Spock sighs softly; he rises up slightly and then slowly, so very slowly, sinks down onto McCoy. McCoy’s eyes close, his head turning to the side because it’s almost too much, too real, Spock’s really here again, really with him, really came back, “God.”

“Yes.”

McCoy’s eyes fly open to look at Spock above him, sitting across McCoy’s hips, McCoy totally enveloped in him. Spock looks down at McCoy calmly, but McCoy can see he’s shaking ever so slightly. Their fingers slide together, entwine, and Spock rises back up, presses down, up, then back down, and McCoy begins to thrust back, pressing up into Spock hard. He can’t stop looking at the other man though, can’t stop watching Spock, so calm, so beautiful above him. He’s not going to last very long, he thinks dimly, and Spock speeds up, and McCoy can’t help but also thrust faster, pushing up harder. He rubs the palms of his hands against Spock’s, caresses the back of Spock’s hands with his thumbs. Spock shudders above him, pulls his hands away from McCoy to brace himself against the wall at the head of the bed as his hips jerk forward. He comes hot against McCoy’s stomach, and McCoy’s eyes screw shut, his hips thrust out of control as he comes inside of Spock.For several long minutes McCoy just lies there, eyes closed, trying to get his breathing back under control. When he finally opens his eyes again, Spock is still leaning over him; eyes closed, hands pressed against the wall, muscles in his arms and body tense as he keeps himself from falling onto the smaller man. McCoy lets his hand come up, tracing along Spock’s arm down his side, and Spock’s eyes open, he looks down at McCoy briefly and then slowly pulls himself up and drops on the bed to lie beside the other man.

“Lights out,” Spock finally tells the computer, his voice even and measured as always.

They lie silent for a long time, next to each other in the dark.

“I wanted so much to forget about you, you know,” McCoy says finally to the ceiling. “You left for Gol and I left Starfleet. I would have done just about anything to forget.”

It’s true too, and the pain of that is almost as bad as it had been when it was new. _If we had a mental bond he would not have gone._ It’s a fear which has repeated itself over and over in his head since the end of the five-year mission; at this point he actually believes it to be the truth.

Spock shifts next to him, coming to lean over him again, and for the first time that night he takes McCoy’s face between his hands and kisses him on the lips. “It was not about you; it was never about you.” Spock’s voice is soft, without inflection or emotion, but McCoy can hear the honesty even if he doesn’t quite believe it. McCoy’s hands circle Spock’s upper arms, keeping him in place, keeping him close.

“Don’t you ever, ever do that again.” McCoy keeps his voice as quiet and calm as he is capable of, being only human, “There is no one else, Spock, it’s only you, only ever you. You can’t just… you can’t just leave me like that and expect me to get on with it.”

Spock doesn’t reply to that, but one of his hands traces lightly across McCoy’s face down his neck, and McCoy closes his eyes. “I tried.” His voice is very low now, and he knows he should just drop it, but he can’t. Four out of those five years he’d been in love, and then at the end Spock had just left, never to come back, to rid himself of everything McCoy had ever cherished in the other man. No, he just can’t leave it. “I really tried to just keep going, and in a lot of ways I did, but . . .” He stops, “There isn’t anyone else I want to share my life with. I really think part of me hates you for going, but I still love you, you know, and that probably doesn’t make sense to you.” Above him Spock is quiet, one arm still holding him over McCoy, the other gently resting against the curve of McCoy’s throat. “Jim,” McCoy sighs, “Jim wanted me and him to be together, but I couldn’t. I wanted to, God knows I tried, but I couldn’t . . .” Spock is silent above him, doesn’t speak, his face and breathing doesn’t change, but McCoy knows he’s hurt him. There is no joy in that, he never expected there to be, but he needs to be honest. “So it’s you or nothing and I tried nothing.”

“Leonard, are you proposing to me?” There is something there in Spock’s voice that McCoy hasn’t heard in a long time, something that could almost be humor. This time it is McCoy who reaches out and touches Spock’s face.

“Yes.”

“You tell me you attempted to be in a relationship with Jim and then propose to me? I must say I find your logic . . .”

“I love you.”

Spock’s hand catches McCoy’s, draws it away from his own face. Two of his fingers gently trace along two of McCoy’s fingers. Spock sighs softly and shuts his eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

McCoy blinks at him for a moment. “Yes?”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

For a moment McCoy is speechless and then suddenly it is too much, it’s all too much, and there are tears running down his face that he’s helpless to stop. Spock holds him, and lets McCoy weep silently against his chest. “Gol was a test. One that I failed.” Spock’s voice is quiet, calm, even as his hands are strong against McCoy’s back, “I have found that I cannot deny my human side, and there are aspects of that which I cannot, nor do I wish to, give up. My loyalty to the Captain, and then there is you . . .”

The last is spoken so softly McCoy almost doesn’t hear, and Spock trails off. They are silent, lying curled against each other. “Promise me,” McCoy says softly, catching Spock’s hand with his, “promise me you will never do that again, you’ll never leave me alone like that again.”

Spock doesn’t say it, but his fingers curl around McCoy’s, hold his hand tightly, and it’s enough.

 

  



End file.
